A little opening in the woods. A little family. A little story.

2004, a Mom, Dad and three little girls bought a few wooded acres. Emotions and excitement ran high with much talk of building a house and having horses. The woods were thick and dense and at first, the Dad cleared a small opening. After owning the property only a mere few days, the little opening was christened with a campfire. Roasted hotdogs and marshmallows were delightful.

The little gathering was Tim and Connie and their little girls. I am Connie. Tim was my high school sweetheart. My only love.

That night, we held each other close.

What followed was a lot of work. Some wooded areas needed to be cleared. We had to be patient to allow the budget to recover. God blesses.

How does one carry on when your life looks like this? Life can hit you hard like a cruel curve ball coming out of nowhere. Then it hits you again. And again. Maybe other stories for other times. I was approaching 7 years of widowhood and was at a very low place. Never ending and hopeless. Sadness and loneliness.

I wander into a garden nursery like a zombie. I wondered if the workers ever see other zombies like me, with hurting hearts, just wandering around and “no thank you, I don’t need any help”. I had no plan, nothing in mind. I saw a beautiful selection of camellias and bought a few. I had no idea where I would plant them.

When I get home, I realize I bought the only sad plant in the nursery. Dang. This will be a sad garden. I will come here and sit when I am sad.

Do we like to tarry here awhile? It is easier and less costly to keep telling the sad story. To my Wilmertown friends who studied the book of John, in chapter 5 Jesus asked the paralyzed man at the pool at Bethsaida “Do you want to be healed?”

Might I ask?

Tumultuous times. My heart cannot shake loss. Loss of a lover and soul mate. Loss of the steel structure of our family. Gone. Around me is swirling the coronavirus and a drape of fear is descending. Social distancing. I already am that. I plant the camellias.

John Chapter 1, an obscure passage, verses 48 and 49. Nathaniel was praying under the Fig Tree. I am guilty of reading too much into things, but I envision Nathaniel with loss. Who knows: loss of a wife, maybe a child, maybe a business? He was crying out to the only One that could help. When he met Jesus he asked how Jesus knew him. Jesus answered, “I saw you under the fig tree”.

As I plant, my heart begins to beat. My soul awakens. A vision comes. God sees me under the Fig Tree and the healing begins. For those who have loss, find your Fig Tree where you can cry out and God will meet you there.

The garden takes on life.

I saw only sad in Sadaharu. It turns out that this camellia is named after Sadaharu Oh who was a left handed, record holding hitter (838 runs) for Japanese professional baseball. Time to shake off the sad!

Sadness??? One, two, three strikes you’re out.

I bought this rose at “Petals from the Past” a few years ago. It has been moved twice and has not thrived. Conditions were not conducive with too much shade and not enough space. The bush was misshapen and unnoticeable, yes very sad. This spring though, she showed out with multiple prizewinning blooms! The gardener takes notice when there are blooms in troubled conditions. The rose is full, fragrant and stays beautiful in an arrangement for a week.

Benjamin Cant was a rose breeder in the early 1900’s in Colchester in Essex County England. The “Mrs. B.R. Cant” rose may be his best and most well known. Only the best for his wife. My Mrs. Cant needs is a survivor from a rootstock over a century ago. My Daddy was a passionate genealogist. Our Thomas Smith (1612 – 1669) immigrated to Virginia (1635) from Essex county, England. Tough rootstock.

It is time to come out of hiding and now a third move to the Sadaharu garden where there are only the honorable. Can you see the new growth? A new birthday and a new life for Mrs. B.R. Cant. I think she can.

The garden is in place. There will be unexpected showings. Unexpected disappointments. Inevitable change. The camellias and Mrs. B.R. Cant are touted to become 8 feet tall or more. Maybe one day, the camellias and Mrs. Cant will tower, perhaps there will be within a tiled room. I dream about grandchildren playing and hiding in this magical dwelling. God brings healing, joy, laughter, peace, fun.

Only the honorable:

The family gathers. Awesome sunsets and cool evenings. We remember. The little opening in the woods.